Searching in Between Lines of Black and White
Happiness is there, hiding under things
too heavy for me to lift.
The shallow pieces I had before
slip through my hands these days.
I could reach for it,
search within the deepest depths of myself;
but I am sure no happiness can be found
by whispering secrets that may start off
soft… quiet… but all leading up to wars nobody could afford.
It may be hidden somewhere deep, or not,
in the beauty of myself;
But I’ll never know after years of looking
into the waves of a circus mirror.
In all the places that shined brightest,
colors have faded, taking from the appeal
to keep my eyes open.
So lately, I don’t so much.
Finding joy is such a waste when you have forgotten
where you put your happy.